


with starry feet

by couldaughter



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Arguably Curtain Fic, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Not Talking About Emotions Because Spock Is Vulcan And Repressed, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28459515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couldaughter/pseuds/couldaughter
Summary: He rolled onto his side and curled his knees a little, trying to get comfortable. The camping bed came without a blanket, so he was stuck either leeching Spock’s body heat through the air between them or being cold in a very manly and stoic fashion.Frankly, he’d rather get some cuddling in.Spock made a noise of inarticulate frustration a few minutes later, just as Jim felt himself starting to drift off. His shivers had tapered off now Spock’s space-heater body was nearby, but the situation was vastly improved when Spock edged close enough to rest an arm across Jim’s chest.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 2
Kudos: 65





	with starry feet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magaliiiii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magaliiiii/gifts).



> magali requested kirk/spock pre-slash planet survival, and there was only one bed! i crammed some huddling for warmth in there as well but like, lowkey and unscientifically
> 
> happy new year magali! let's trek those stars

“Don’t say it, Spock,” said Jim, taking a moment to lean against the cave wall and get his bearings. It was difficult when the entire cave system was unmapped and almost pitch-black, but that wasn’t the point.

Spock, typically, raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean, Captain.” He exhaled, breath crystallising in the frigid air. “Although I _could_ remind you of your assurance to the bridge crew that this away mission would not require any additional equipment. Some rope, perhaps. A few pitons”

Jim frowned at him on principle, but the trouble was that Spock was right. He’d been damnably naive, assuming their negotiations would be completed in a timely and civilised fashion. As it was, there’d been an earthquake which split the glacier city of Striverastra in twain and plunged them into the long untouched cave system beneath.

He sort of felt like reminiscing on the moment they’d both found their footing in the rubble. Spock had grabbed Jim’s arm, the warmth of his hand very pleasant through the thin material of his dress uniform, and asked, “Are you injured?” with a tone which Jim was perversely pleased to recognise as concern.

It was always nice to be wanted, he supposed. But he was pretty much alright, physically, besides a few cuts and bruises. Spock was a little worse off, with a sprained ankle and wrist, but nothing Bones wouldn’t be able to fix once Scotty could get a lock on their location.

The issue was, well.

“Too much interference with the signal, Captain,” said Scotty, crackling and apologetic over the line. “I’d be just as likely to beam up half a ton of shale as the two of you! Best to try and find somewhere to hole up and we can come collect you when the seismic activity calms down.”

“Copy that, Mister Scott,” said Jim, with what he thought was admirable reserve. The stone he kicked across the cavern would’ve had a rather different opinion but it was not, thankfully, sentient.

So they were stuck in the cave, in the near total darkness, with only the distant comfort of possible rescue to cling to as the temperature dropped.

Spock refused to complain, it presumably being unbecoming of a Vulcan, but Jim had caught him shivering more than once on their trek through the caves in search of a suitable resting place. Not too many sharp rocks underfoot, basically.

Growing up in Iowa had not prepared Jim for this specific eventuality, but he had spent long enough in various cave systems on their five year mission that he felt confident calling a halt when they found a room large enough to lie down in without ending up with a permanent stoop.

“This is the good life,” Jim replied, in lieu of agreeing about the pitons. The moment had passed. He gave into his body’s cries for help and collapsed onto the cave floor, arms and legs spread, and tried to ignore the rock digging insistently into his lower back. His boots brushed the wall on either side. “What do you think, Mr Spock? Worth giving a review to the Federation tourism board?”

“I doubt the Federation would approve of such an uninviting locale,” said Spock, before sitting cross-legged on the floor. His left knee brushed against the sole of Jim’s boot.

It really was cramped. Jim was mostly glad they’d found somewhere without having to risk a _squeeze_ , a concept which had terrified him ever since he’d read about Floyd Collins in middle school.

Time moves slowly without distractions. Spock had clearly decided that meditating would be a better use of his time than engaging in small talk — Jim couldn’t blame him — but it meant that he himself was stuck counting striations in the rock above him and having vivid fantasies about being crushed to death by a sudden secondary quake. It was not the most restful way to spend an hour or so, but it wasn’t the worst time he’d had in a cave.

He only started to shiver in earnest when he attempted to move his legs and realised he had, inadvertently, created a bubble of warmth which extended exactly as far as his body had, and not one millimetre further.

Holding in a few more creative curses, he sat up and hugged his knees to his chest. The dress uniform was decently warm, often shading towards uncomfortably hot during long indoor ceremonies, but it wasn’t designed for caving or arctic exploration, and the temperature drop wasn’t helping matters.

He checked Spock’s tricorder, wincing as the low whistle of its activation pierced the quiet of the caves, and winced even harder at the temperature readout.

“Hey, Spock,” he said, turning towards his first officer with more than a little concern. “You alright in here?”

Vulcan biology was still an enigma to Jim but he was fairly certain someone from a desert planet probably wasn’t used to sub-zero temperatures. 

Spock, after a few moments of silence, blinked slowly. He looked a little dazed, Jim thought, which could not be good.

“Jim?” His speech was just as slow as the rest of him.

“We need to stay warm,” he replied, rubbing his hands together in the vain hope it might restore some feeling to his fingers. “Stupid of me to forget your whole — thing.” He waved a hand in what he hoped was an explanatory way.

“My species are accustomed to extreme changes in temperature,” said Spock, still slow but sounding more like himself. “It is difficult to maintain core bodily function without external heat sources.”

“Well, unfortunately I also forgot to requisition a camping stove,” said Jim. “I’ll put it on the list for next time.”

Spock fixed him with a look which he would have insisted wasn’t a glare. “That is beside the point.” He moved, looking pained as his joints cracked, so that he sat beside Jim, thighs pressed close together. It was an immediate improvement.

It was also, Jim remembered, standard treatment for hypothermia in a few of the older Starfleet field guides. Although the diagrams for that had been somewhat more titillating.

“Considerations for future missions can wait until we have completed _this_ mission,” said Spock. “Or, indeed, you have survived a valiant attempt to kill yourself through exposure.”

“Not my intention,” said Jim. “Just got absorbed in the ceiling. I can see a camel in there, y’know.”

Spock’s mouth flattened further, if that was possible. “I doubt there are any ungulates in the mineral deposits of this planet, Captain.” That was more like it, Jim thought. Spock disarmed enough to _actually_ call him Jim was unnerving. 

“I need to get the bedroll unpacked,” he said, trying not to reminisce about the previous time Spock had been surprised enough to use his first name. The smile had been a nice bonus. “Uh, we did bring one, right?”

“Standard issue,” Spock reminded him. “In case of unsuitable sleeping arrangements.”

There had been quite a few situations when Jim had slept on the bare floor before it had _become_ standard. His back certainly didn’t need the reminder.

The bedroll inflated itself within a few minutes, rolling out to fill the narrow space between the two far walls. It would probably fit both of them, Jim reflected. Which was fine. It was totally fine.

He shivered again, one that rattled his teeth together hard enough he worried they might crack. 

Glancing at Spock, Jim was relieved to note that the other man was just as unsettled by the imminent situation as he was. Hopefully, he thought, for the same reasons.

Jim lay down on the bedroll and attempted to get comfortable, stripping off his uniform jacket to use as a makeshift pillow. It was difficult, but he’d slept in worse places.

Spock joined him after a few moments, looking extremely dubious about the whole situation. It was a subtle expression, but one Jim had learned to read very early on. It was all about the space between the eyebrows.

They lay next to each other in silence for a while, pressed together side-to-side and Jim, at least, feeling much better for it.

“Captain,” said Spock, after some time. 

“Yes, Spock?” asked Jim, hiding a yawn behind his hand. He felt much warmer now he had Spock for a hot water bottle.

“When is Mr Scott sending the relief party?”

Jim frowned, trying to remember the timeframe. “He only said it would have to wait until after the aftershocks totally receded, to make sure we don’t lose any more personnel.”

The security team they’d brought down for negotiations had, thankfully, been beamed up from the wreckage of the city, still at the surface while Jim and Spock were buried.

Spock hummed disapprovingly.

“I can do a lot of things, Spock,” said Jim. “But I cannot alter the movement of tectonic plates.”

“I am aware of that, Captain,” said Spock, resentfully.

Jim nudged him with his elbow. “Am I so dreadful a bedmate, Spock? I can provide excellent reviews.”

Spock gave Jim a look. Jim looked right back, struggling not to smile. “I think I’d rather sleep than argue. Let me know what you think in the morning.”

He rolled onto his side and curled his knees a little, trying to get comfortable. The camping bed came without a blanket, so he was stuck either leeching Spock’s body heat through the air between them or being cold in a very manly and stoic fashion.

Frankly, he’d rather get some cuddling in.

Spock made a noise of inarticulate frustration a few minutes later, just as Jim felt himself starting to drift off. His shivers had tapered off now Spock’s space-heater body was nearby, but the situation was vastly improved when Spock edged close enough to rest an arm across Jim’s chest.

He could feel, just at the edge of his awareness, the brush of Spock’s mind against his, a burst of bright colour in the dim light. 

It was a sensation that was becoming more familiar with practice. He had a feeling all this not-at-all-casual contact meant a lot to Spock. It certainly meant a lot to him.

**Author's Note:**

> title from [in the night we shall go in](http://www.phys.unm.edu/~tw/fas/yits/archive/neruda_inthenightweshallgoin.html) by pablo neruda!
> 
> come find me on twitter/tumblr @dotsayers, where i will not be talking about star trek but trust me: i am constantly thinking about it


End file.
